


Brown-haired boy

by chan_the_dinosaur



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: I don't know what I was doing but I love Verkwan, M/M, Soonseok landed Hansol in this state, hints of Soonseok, implied meanie couple, verkwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chan_the_dinosaur/pseuds/chan_the_dinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hansol meets Seungkwan for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brown-eyed Boy

Hansol’s group of friends is made up of some very interesting people.

Jihoon was a pessimist. His only response to Seokmin and Soonyoung’s plans was a short, two-lettered word called ‘No’. He was not being negative, he said. “I honestly just wanted us to live a long life outside of prison” was often his response to Seokmin and Soonyoung’s whining. Some say that he got it from his elder brother Yoongi, a recent graduate from their high school. However, there were still spots of pink and yellow in his somewhat bleak persona. Hansol remembered the time he called Jihoon at twelve midnight, in tears and highly stressed out because for some reason he was unable to memorize the facts needed for an AP Physics test that was nine hours away. The older boy had ran to his house in a record time of ten minutes despite living in a completely different neighborhood, panting and heaving while telling him that everything was going to be alright and offered to help him study. Jihoon also gave the cutest eye-smiles, Seokmin always cooed before Jihoon smacked the back of his head with his Music Theory notes. Jihoon wanted to become a producer.

Soonyoung was a boy made for the stage. Just like how Hansol could not live without rapping, Soonyoung lived and breathed the art of dance. He was the leader and choreographer for Jam Jam, their school’s award winning dance crew. He was no doubt talented, as he not only was able to create choreographies out of simple movements (he had created the intro of a song just by watching Hansol picking up a piece of tissue), but also had the voice blessed by angels. However, if there was one thing Soonyoung could not do, it was rap. During freshman year, he had begged Hansol to teach him how to rap in order to impress an upperclassman he had a crush on. The younger complied, but instantly realized that he was committing a huge mistake when Soonyoung’s saliva covered a higher percentage of his face than his lavender scented moisturizer. After the forty-five minutes of constant accidental spitting, Soonyoung realized that he was not rapper material and called it quits. It was a week later when Soonyoung was convinced that Seokmin was his soulmate, and wanted to impress him instead. Soonyoung wanted to study modern dance at a prestigious performing arts school.

Seokmin shone the brightest out of all of them. He was the human embodiment of the sun, and always had that warm yellow aura surrounding him wherever he went. He had that internal joy that people would fight wars over, one that was fully independent of the outside world. The warm yellow that surrounded Seokmin was accompanied by a light pink, reminding Hansol of the roses his father used to buy for his mother before flower prices started to rise. During their freshman literature class, while studying I Capture the Castle, amidst of everyone’s blank faces as the teacher droned on and on about the analysis, Seokmin was the only one in tears throughout the entire lesson (which was quite expected of him, given that he cried himself to sleep after watching The Fault in Our Stars). And Hansol, being “emotionally paired” with him, cried together with Seokmin (well actually, he cried laughing). Seokmin loves Soonyoung and that has stayed the same throughout the years, and changing times did nothing to waver the affection he had for the dancer. Seokmin was a wonderful singer and wanted to study music at a performing arts school.

No matter how distinguished their personalities were from each other, that could never write out the fact that they were all lovers of the non-examinable school subject called gossip.  
-  
“I’m not kidding you, I really saw Mr. Kim and Mr. Jeon at the cinema on Saturday!” Soonyoung whispered across the paint adorned table, pointing a blue paintbrush in Jihoon’s direction.

“You are a man of misplaced information, Kwon. And besides, wasn’t Mr Jeon at school that day?” Jihoon argued, not looking up from his drawing.

“It was in the evening, Hoon. Those Literature extension classes ended at three last Saturday” Soonyoung rebutted, turning to Seokmin, “isn’t that right Seokminnie?” The singer smiled and nodded, eyes never leaving his beloved dancer.

Hansol, who sat opposite Seokmin and Soonyoung could feel the love radiating off the happy couple. He gulped, in an attempt to keep his lunch down. He really did not want to see the mystery meat he spent 20 minutes swallowing surface up and onto his drawing of the moon.  
-  
The bell rang, and Hansol and his gang made their way to Mr.Yoon’s class. Their journey, to the ever so exciting biology lab was however paused by a certain art teacher calling out their names.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?” Soonyoung asked politely, his mind flashing all sorts of red signs indicating the possibility of the art teacher listening to their conversations about his date with the Humanities head of department.

“Are any of you boys free after school?” The tan male asked, whilst putting away sheets of lesson plans.

The four of them gulped. 

Seokmin and Soonyoung shook their heads, being occupied with auditions.

Jihoon was already busy enough with his Music Theory classes.

And that leaves Hansol, alone, the only one with an empty after school timetable.

Fuck.  
-  
Hansol fumbled with his paintbrush as he observed the group of actors congregated in the centre of the stage. They chatted animatedly, about almost everything under the sun. He heard snippets of conversations regarding level-wide essay assignment, about the budding romances seen behind book shelves and under tables, about asses and legs.

The gap separating “almost” and “everything” under the sun were the discussions about their characters and script.

Hansol huffed, figuring that they were just like him, present only for the extra credits being in a school play offered.

Hansol was about to return to mixing his tin of purple paint when his eyes caught sight of a tuff of reddish-brown hair sitting alone by the side of the stage. He was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling conversations occurring nearby. Legs crosses and back propped up against the wall, the brown-haired boy’s pink lips moved wordlessly as his eyes scanned through the page. His cheeks were a rosy colour, reminding Hansol of those precious moments during a sunset. He was serene, his round face showing minimal signs of stress as he memorized the words of the script. 

Brown-haired boy looked up, and Hansol’s breath was stolen away.  
-  
Hansol was given the duty of painting the backdrop, capturing the moments before a sunset on the white canvas. It was for a scene made for a heartbroken man, and Hansol wanted to express melancholy with the prettiest and palest colours. He was going to paint the white canvas with the lightest shade of blue, with the palest tones of peach and lavender swirled together, creating a messy effect that made the painting seem more natural. Hints of azure and white dots of clouds will be added to the painting, creating an invisible effect that gave it more life.

It is going to be beautiful.  
-  
The sunset took second place the moment the brown-haired boy stood on stage, and Hansol dropped everything just to see him act. It was a breakup scene, a moment of escape for a girl who wanted to leave and a heartbreaking moment for the boy who wanted her stay. The red-haired girl playing opposite brown-haired boy was not very impressive; the tired in her voice was not tinged with the sadness and exasperation that was expected of her character. It was monotonous, the fatigue in her voice reminding Hansol of the essay on obesity due next Wednesday. Brown-haired boy was on an another level; he speech was rushed and filled with wanting, desperate to get the girl to love him back, to not leave him alone heartbroken in front of a beautiful sunset. There was a moment when he slowed down, hands rummaging through his hair, as he whispered in a broken voice, “If it makes you happy, then go”.

The girl walked away, and Hansol wanted to take her place as brown-haired boy’s lover instead.  
-  
Rehearsals ended at 5pm, with the tired-looking drama teacher clasping his hands together, announcing that everyone did a great job with false hope and encouragement adorning his voice. The flurry of activity started again, with the actors resuming their conversations as they went backstage to retrieve their bags. It took fifteen minutes, but soon everyone was cleared out of the auditorium, leaving Hansol to work on his piece with peace (pun not intended) and quiet.

It took another thirty minutes before Hansol heard the sound of footsteps emerging from backstage. In a paranoid state of mind, he grabbed a nearby paintbrush with clammy hands, breathing softly but deeply to ease his pounding heart. Good job Hansol, he thought, a fucking paintbrush to protect yourself against a maniac. He shuddered as he thought of himself rolling up to his own funeral painted in the palest and prettiest shades of pink and purple.

Or he could stab the intruder with a paintbrush. That would be fucking sick.

The sound of the footsteps grew closer and closer and, and so did the impending feeling of doom. His grip around the paintbrush grew tighter, till his paint adorned knuckles paled. He raised his arm in a defensive position, ready to be the first to strike when-

“Whoa, are you alright?” he looked up, and most definitely did not think that intruders came in the form of adorable brown-haired boys with rosy lips.

Hansol slowly put down his arm and settled the once raised paintbrush on the floor. He felt heat radiating of his face, and silently hoped that the wooden stage would open up and engulf him. Instead, he nodded and in a soft voice stuttered, “I..I’m fine.”

Brown-haired boy’s face broke into a gentle smile as he pointed to the empty space beside Hansol, “Can I sit here?” Hansol, still feeling embarrassed, nodded silently as he scooted over. 

“Do you need any help?” brown-eyed boy asked, his brown eyes glistening. They were made up of lighter and darker hues of brown, with specks of amber. His brown hair carried hints of crimson and maroon, contributing to the reddish effect. 

Hansol swallowed thickly, and handed the boy a paintbrush.  
-  
“I’m Seungkwan, by the way.”  
“I’m Hansol”


	2. Seungkwan's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't Seungkwan's first meeting with Hansol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Chapter One from Seungkwan's Point Of View

Seungkwan had always thought Seokmin to be a very special friend.

Seungkwan’s life was like looking at a pale blue canvas with a pair of grey lens; unhappy moments often got to him, and he sometimes let insecurities breach the security barriers he had worked so hard to build up. He often kept everything bottled up, preferring to cry alone at night rather than verbalise his emotions. Of course, that took some degree of alteration when he met Seokmin during the first lesson of Music. The taller boy approached him and initiated a conversation on their favourite and most-admired singers; and weeks after that, Seokmin became a close friend and his brighter personality became Seungkwan’s reassurance. Seungkwan was thankful for Seokmin, he really was. And now, as he watched Seokmin copy down the information presented on the board, his pencil pro scratching sounds as it made contact with the lined paper, Seungkwan figured that he could not be more thankful, as he stifled a yawn and Mr. Hong’s teachings on Integration entered his left ear and escaped from the right. 

-

 

Seungkwan let out a huge breath of air once Mr Hong’s lesson came to an end. Yes, he might not have been listening to the lesson, and yes, instead of calculus, his 17 year old mind was filled with daydreams and stories of what could have been, he was still mentally fatigued. The class was now assigned a list of textbook questions to attempt, as the orange-haired teacher sat at the table in front, urging the class to clarify any doubts.“It’s better to have questions now, than during the exams”, he said, arms folded as he looked on patiently.

Seungkwan’s mind was blank as he began the series of sums. His mind was in a flurry of what the fucks and how the fucks as he browsed through the questions, all the while thanking heavens for Seokmin’s notes. He was on what he thought was the right track when his mouth was itching for a conversation with his friend.

“Seokmin” “What” the boy beside him asked, not bothering to look up from his filled paper of numbers and mathematical symbols.

“Where do you want to go after school... after graduating?” Seungkwan felt the need to add the last two words, because knowing Seokmin; he would talk about his ‘activities’ with Soonyoung after dismissal.

“I’ll be going to a performing arts school. With Soonyoung.” Seokmin answered, speaking of it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Soonyoung... you really love him, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do” Seungkwan’s heart softened as he heard Seokmin’s affirmation. It was genuine, a smile evident in his tender voice. He was happy for Seokmin, that he had found love at a young age.

“Now speaking of love...” Seokmin turned to look at Seungkwan, brows wiggling suggestively. His eighteen sums on integrating trigonometry were long forgotten as gossip danced on his tongue, threatening to spill out of his lips.

“How are things with you and our Hansollie?” and knowing Seokmin, he would let them spill anyway.

“What... what things?” Seungkwan spluttered, his face catching fire immediately. The fire spread from his face to the rest of his body, the flames licked his stomach, creating a tickling sensation. Seungkwan bit on his lips, as a smile threatened to appear on his face. It did, and it made him seem like a bashful boy in love. It was insane, how the mere mention of Seokmin’s fair-haired best friend made him so giddy.

Seokmin nudged him knowingly before continuing, “You should join us for lunch today. He will be there.”

Seungkwan’s shoulders slumped, “I can’t, I’ve already arranged with Ms. Oh for vocal practice”. He was sure that his words left his lips in the form of a whine when he turned to see a smirk plastered on Seokmin’s face.

-

The auditorium was in a flurry of activity when Seungkwan arrived fifteen minutes before rehearsals commenced. Different topics of conversations filled the area, mixing together to form an incoherent mess of noise. Seungkwan huffed and settled down in a spot far from the crowd; he never liked interacting with the other actors. He pouted a little, wishing that Seokmin was here instead. He fished around his blue book bag for his script, and found it crumpled and lying comfortably between his vocal notes and song sheet.

Seungkwan had always found solace in performing; regardless of whether he is belting notes or breathing life to another character, he always felt at ease. That was why memorising the script came so naturally to him, like it was as fundamental as breathing or blinking. Seungkwan’s eyes scanned through the words on the page, letting them swirl around in his mind as he mouthed them. The words then formed concrete footprints in his brain, as though they were engraved on a cement path. He then slowly analyzed his character, highlighting the right places to inject strong emotions, and where to paint his voice grey with hopelessness.

His pre-rehearsals revisions were interrupted when his mind wandered to a burning sensation on his shoulder, the feeling that someone had their eye on him. Feeling slightly crept out; Seungkwan looked up (all the while praying that it was not a ghost or that weird janitor).

His breath hitched when he saw Hansol Vernon Chwee staring at him.

-

Hansol lowered his head a nanosecond after their eyes met, hiding his face in the process. The disappointment rising in Seungkwan’s chest mixed with disbelief, rendering him speechless and blinking his eyes non-stop as he stared at the painter a distance away from him.

Thoughts raced through Seungkwan’s mind, at seemingly high speeds as he tried his best to make sense of the situation. Why was Hansol here? Why was he painting at the play he is acting in? Does Seokmin know about this? Seungkwan even considered running to the arts school Seokmin was auditioning in, in the sweltering afternoon heat just to shake some answers out of his horse-looking friend (and possibly screech how this is the best rehearsal in the whole of theatre history).

But he didn’t. And when the director entered the hall, Seungkwan placed his bag backstage and readied himself for 2 hours long of rehearsals.

-

Hansol was painting the canvas baby blue when it was Seungkwan’s turn to act. He stood on the raised wooden platform with shaky knees and a pounding heart. But he wasn’t nervous; this sensation that he felt was the result of teenage hormones acting on his crush on a Hansol Vernon Chwee.

He swallowed a huge breath of air, an attempt to calm his fluttering young heart and faced the female student in front of him.

It was a break up scene, and the man he portrayed, Baekho wanted nothing more than the girl in front of him to stay. Seungkwan, rather than focusing on the handsome painter sitting at the end of the stage, tried to paint his voice red with urgency.

Seungkwan recited the lines from his memory, injecting strong emotions of hope and desperation as he did so. The red in his voice grew stronger and stronger, highlighting Baekho’s desperation. Until, it faded to a dull grey as he let go of her hand and messed his reddish brown locks, he said “If it makes you happy, then go.”

Baekho watched helplessly as the love of his life walked away.

He then closed his eyes, allowing tears to roll down his chubby cheeks.

-

Rehearsals ended 45 minutes later, at the sound of director clapping and saying that he will see everyone on Friday.  Everyone visibly relaxed as they broke out of character, and resumed with their previous conversations. Seungkwan focused on the stage floor as he rushed backstage to where his bag was, refusing to make any more accidental eye contact with the painter. He dropped to the floor, and took deep breaths to ease his frantic teenage heart. He pressed his palm to his cherubic cheeks, and holy shit was he burning up.

The sound of chatter started to rise as students entered backstage to retrieve their bags, and fall as they left the auditorium. And fifteen minutes later, the background conversations declined to nothing and Seungkwan found himself calming his love struck heart in silence.

He would have laughed out loud if he saw anyone in this position.

Hell, he even burst out laughing and screeching at Seokmin when he first discovered his best friend’s crush on the shaggy-haired dancer.

-

The low murmur of Seungkwan’s singing voice decorated time in the next few minutes. The song-sheet, in its crumpled and messily scribbled-on glory, lay in front of him as he sang softly and lowly. Ms. Oh’s advice rang in his mind, both in the forms of purple-inked words and his music teacher’s gentle voice. He tried to translate them into action using a variety of ways, but nothing seems to come out the right way. The melancholic parts of the song sounded hopeful, projecting his belief that the universe has had the right strings tied for him and his crush to stand in close proximity. The high notes were off, his voice cracking and faltering with each try. Seungkwan’s shoulders slumped in fatigue, as he let out a mouthful of pent-up frustrated breath. Rubbing his face with his hands, the young actor tried his best to clear his mind of his attractive crush. However, to his frustration, his actions were to no avail as the thoughts of Hansol swarmed back into his mind 10 times faster.

Seungkwan huffed as he stood up, swung his backpack over his shoulders and called it a day.

-

“Whoa, are you alright?” Seungkwan eyebrows furrowed as he directed the question to his fair haired crush. The poor boy had his eyes shut tight as he defended himself with a blue paintbrush.

(Seungkwan low-key wanted to wrap Hansol with a blanket to protect him from the world’s evils, that innocent child.)

He watched as Hansol slowly placed the paintbrush on the floor, opening his eyes in the process. His pink lips formed a circle shape, and stuttered “I…I’m fine”.

Seungkwan’s heart melted at Hansol’s obvious embarrassment, and with a small smile on his face, he gestured to the unoccupied spot next to Hansol.

“Can I sit here?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

Celebratory confetti burst in his heart as Hansol nodded and moved over.

“Do you need any help?” Seungkwan asked, struggling to keep his screaming heart and raging teenage hormones in check as Hansol looked at him intently.

He figured that his day was made when Hansol handed him a red paintbrush.

-

“I’m Seungkwan, by the way.”

“I’m Hansol”

-

The air between them was awkward and thick. The tension and stiffness set in ten minutes into the painting when Seungkwan caught Hansol stealing glances at him. He swallowed thickly, hating how restricted it felt. They made small, almost microscopic talk; just one-way conversations that ended up with responses of “Um, Oh, Ah, Yes”.

Conversation starters climbed up his throat and threatened to spill out of his mouth. There were millions of them, and they began to suffocate him. Seungkwan clamped his lips shut, and looked down on the floor as he tried his best to breathe. He looked back up, at the patch of purple in front of him and directed his attention to Hansol.

“How are your friends? How is Seokmin?” Seungkwan felt that he regain the ability to breath the moment that questions left his mouth.

Hansol gave him a curious look, “They are fine. He is fine. How do you know Seokmin?” (Seungkwan KNOWS that Seokmin is doing fine. Look at him; topping all his classes, dating his crush, being a genius 24/7)

Seungkwan gave Hansol an incredulous look, Seokmin has never mentioned him? “We are friends; we go to math class together”

Hansol’s mouth resembled a goldfish as he nodded, “I think he mentioned you. I’m not sure, I don’t have a good memory. I mean, I’m good with books but other than that, everything is just whoosh. I’m sorry. The only teacher I really remember is Mr Kim because he is so nice to us and we always joke that he is dating Mr Jeon” He rambled on, his face turning pinker with each word. Hansol looked down and twiddled with his fingers, as his words left in mouth in a jumbled mess.

Seungkwan found it absolutely endearing how flustered he is. “It’s fine” he laughed as he reached for Hansol’s arm, not caring how awkward he felt as he patted it comfortingly.

Hansol’s head shot up (Seungkwan immediately thought of him as a puppy) and grinned. “I would love to get to know you better. Why don’t you join us for lunch? You can meet Seokmin and my other friends!”

His voice reminded Seungkwan of bright pinks and yellows, of Baekho when he asked the girl out for the first time.

“Sure”

-

Seungkwan does not assume that they are dating when Hansol offered to share his Spaghetti during lunch.

Seungkwan does not assume that they are dating when Hansol brought him to the ice cream parlor after school, abandoning his own friends.

Seungkwan does not assume that they are dating when Hansol offered to walk him home after rehearsals.

Seungkwan does not assume that they are dating when Hansol tapped on his classroom window just to give him a cheeky grin.

But on the day of his play when Hansol surprised him backstage him a bouquet of red roses and a good luck kiss on his lips, Seungkwan knows that they are.


End file.
